Wednesday, 17 June 2009

Rain as Old Magician

So the worst of the jetlag has been shaken off, and some blissful rain is pattering on the study window. My little un has a raspy throat so she's around too, sipping Margaritas and playing pool with her old man. Actually that last bits not quite accurate-she's 4 and is deep into Rapunzel as i write.

One of the many pleasures of the US trip was watching Galway Kinnell read again-a man who wins 'handsomest man' award, especially at 82. Damn his cheekbones. I'll stick a photo up so you can make your own mind up. Here's one of his;

After Making Love We Hear Footsteps

For I can snore like a bullhorn
or play loud music
or sit up talking with any reasonably sober Irishman
and Fergus will only sink deeper
into his dreamless sleep, which goes by all in one flash,
but let there be that heavy breathing
or a stifled come-cry anywhere in the house
and he will wrench himself awake
and make for it on the run—as now, we lie together,
after making love, quiet, touching along the length of our bodies,
familiar touch of the long-married,
and he appears—in his baseball pajamas, it happens,
the neck opening so small he has to screw them on—
and flops down between us and hugs us and snuggles himself to sleep,
his face gleaming with satisfaction at being this very child.

In the half darkness we look at each other
and smile
and touch arms across this little, startlingly muscled body—
this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.

He's also responsible for possibly my favourite line ever, which go 'something' like:

'I know i belong only half to this world, half of me belongs to the wild darkness'

Holy moly. The boys not messing around, he ain't firing blanks.

Lovely week back in the StudyCave. 18,000 wrds (not all good i'm sure) into a brand new essay and the title of the next book i'm working on has jumped effortlesly out of the ether. And will remain a secret for now- but its a hot coal in the hand, i tell you. A book about Love arrived from a New York store this morning. Surrounded by gifts-a piece of a branch of a tree struck by Lightning (given by a man who once stalked and was stalked by a Wolverine), drawings, letters and assorted leaves, shells and even skulls folks gave me on the recent travels.We are now approaching half way through the original pressing of 'Lightning Tree', sales have been brisk which is a lovely and startling thing. We have the UK book launch next week (please see above) and i will be putting year course dates on the very soon.

I hope some of you caught the Caroline Casey interview-she's very gifted-and we are hopeful to work as allies in September back in the states. I'll send the details as they come.

I'll finish with a little Jim Lenfestey. May you be half an hour in heaven before the devil knows you're gone.
M x

Once i threw away bananas half brown
Now i find them delicious, syrupy sweet.
So too the old coats and jeans i patch
at elbow and knee: More life! More life!
I was never a slave to fashion,
Nor chained to a daily job.
the cave where my ancestors began
feels warm to me now, this mansion cold.

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